


I’m OK: Michael Jackson and Christina Aguilera

by KaibaSlaveGirl34



Series: Michael Jackson [8]
Category: Michael Jackson (Musician)
Genre: Child Abuse, Community: comment_fic, F/M, Gen, Harm to Children, Memories, References to Child Abuse, Stolen Childhood, Wordcount: Under 10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-22
Updated: 2011-09-22
Packaged: 2017-10-23 23:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/256125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KaibaSlaveGirl34/pseuds/KaibaSlaveGirl34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While listening to the song "I'm OK", Christina Aguilera is visited by the King of Pop...</p>
            </blockquote>





	I’m OK: Michael Jackson and Christina Aguilera

**Author's Note:**

> Here’s a new oneshot I cooked up one day. I was listening to the song I’m OK by Christina Aguilera, and I thought of this while imagining Christina listening to the song, and then having Michael Jackson come into the picture. As a result, this is what I came up with.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own the songfics, oneshots and stories I cook up from time to time. The lyrics to I’m OK by Christina Aguilera belong to their respective owners.

I’m OK: Michael Jackson and Christina Aguilera

Christina Aguilera sat in her room, listening to one of her songs from her album “Stripped”. It was a guitar-driven ballad called “I’m OK”, a heartbreaking but beautiful song about her childhood and the abuse her father had inflicted upon her and her mother.

_Once upon a time there was a girl_  
_In her early years she had to learn_  
_How to grow up living in a war that she called home_  
_Never know just where to turn for shelter from the storm_

_Hurt me to see the pain across my mother’s face_  
_Every time my father’s fist would put her in her place_  
_Hearing all the yelling I would cry up in my room_  
_Hoping it would be over soon_

Then strong arms wrapped around Christina’s waist, as familiar black locks tickled her cheek. She didn’t have to turn around to see who it was; she already knew. Michael Jackson.

But when she turned around, her eyes widened. He looked gorgeous!

He was wearing a red shirt with white buttons on the wristcuffs, white socks covered by black penny loafers and black pants. His raven hair looked the same as it did on December 22, 1993, when he made the speech against allegations concerning child abuse — which, she remembered him telling her once, he disliked with a passion.

“Christina,” he whispered.

She looked at him, tears glistening in her ocean-colored orbs.

He knew that look well. He himself had been abused by his father as a child. It still hurt, even though his father had apologized a year ago, and asked Michael to forgive him.

Then he pricked up his ears upon hearing the song.

_Bruises fade, father, but the pain remains the same_  
_And I still remember how you kept me so afraid_  
_Strength is my mother for all the love she gave_  
_Every morning that I wake I look back to yesterday_  
_And I’m OK_

“Christina, this song,” said Michael as he circled her, intertwining his arm around her waist, “it’s about your childhood — your father being abusive — your mother being a tower of strength — everything.” Soon he was standing in front of her. He placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Yes,” Christina replied. At the same time, she mentally asked herself, _How does he do that? How does he magically put into words exactly what I’m feeling, but sometimes seem to have so much trouble saying?_

She didn’t get a chance to answer herself, as Michael picked her up bridal style and carried her to the bed that suddenly just appeared out of nowhere. He laid her down and smiled, drinking in her beauty.

 _She looks so beautiful, even when in pain,_ he thought.

_I often wonder why I carry all this guilt_  
_When it’s you that helped me put up all these walls I’ve built_  
_Shadows stir at night through a crack in the door_  
_The echo of a broken child screaming ‛please, no more’_

_Daddy, don’t you understand the damage you have done_  
_To you it’s just a memory, but for me it still lives on_

Christina then ceased to think, ceased to care. All she felt was the King of Pop raking his hands softly over her red dress. He moved his fingers, lithe as a black panther, up to her left shoulder.

He thought for a moment, and then was struck with an idea.

_Bruises fade, father, but the pain remains the same_  
_And I still remember how you kept me so afraid_  
_Strength is my mother for all the love she gave_  
_Every morning that I wake, I look back to yesterday_  
_And I’m OK_

Christina looked up at him, her eyes full of pleading. “Please, Michael – please do your best to make me feel better,” she said.

Brown eyes locked with blue ones, and Michael smiled. “Dearest Christina, I’ll do just that.”

Then Christina made a surprising confession.

“Michael... you’re looking — so hot.”

To her surprise, he smiled still.

“I guess I do,” he replied. “You know, I get that a lot, especially when I see these tributes about me on YouTube these days — you know, the ones that say — how should I put this — very sexy I am.”

“It’s true, Michael,” she shyly agreed after a moment. “Even I can’t put something like that into words. Sometimes there are some things that better left unexplained or undescribed.”

Michael nodded in agreement.

His eyes gleamed as he sat beside her. Pulling her gently to him, he put his head on top of hers while stroking her back, his white teeth gleaming in a way that reminded her of diamonds on a crown he had shown her once at Neverland, and the stars she would see out of her bedroom window as a kid.

He then said, “Don’t let the mirror tell you lies. Just look at your reflection through my eyes, Christina.

“You’re beautiful,” he added after a moment.

She looked up at him as he gazed lovingly down at her. For the moment, she felt safe as the King of Pop held her like he would a child.

**Author's Note:**

> Nice feedback is, as usual, very much appreciated, please.. :)


End file.
